


i tried too hard, i tried too hard and now im drowning

by Imjustgonnareadfanficinthedark



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Age Play, Age Play Little Tony Stark, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxious Tony Stark, Arc Reactor Angst, Arc Reactor Issues, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Awesome Jarvis (Iron Man movies), Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Caregiver Natasha, Caregiver Natasha Romanov, Caregiver Phil Coulson, Caregiver Steve Rogers, Carrying, Child Abuse, Classifications, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depressed Tony Stark, Diapers, Domestic Avengers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhaustion, Fainting, Fluff, Headaches & Migraines, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Jarvis (Iron Man movies) is a Good Bro, Little Clint Barton, Littles Are Known, Multi, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, No Smut, Non-Sexual Age Play, Overworked Tony Stark, Panic Attacks, Phil Coulson Is a Good Bro, Protective Avengers, Protective Bruce Banner, Protective Clint Barton, Protective Jarvis (Iron Man movies), Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Phil Coulson, Protective Steve Rogers, Science Bros, Sick Tony Stark, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Team as Family, Tony Stark Cries, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Has Nightmares, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Tony Stark Needs Sleep, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric, Worried Jarvis (Iron Man movies), ageplay little clint barton, alternative universe - classifications, alternative universe - littles are known, blink and you miss it kinda fluff, caregiver coulson, caregiver steve, duh - Freeform, guys i literally love jarvis so much pls, guys idk about thor he might turn up later, i just dont like writing him oops, its literally 2am im so sorry for the mess that is these tags, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28396908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imjustgonnareadfanficinthedark/pseuds/Imjustgonnareadfanficinthedark
Summary: Tony's hanging on the edge, he cant remember the last time he dropped, his house is full of spies and mother hens and its rapidly beginning to feel like there's no space to breathe.And as if it couldn't get any worse he has to keep it together. He has to keep it together because no one knows, Tony decided it was going to be that way a very long time ago. Stark men are made of iron, Stark men aren't littles. And he's not going to change now.So Tony's fine, he's totally fine. Nobody needs to know about his classification, no one needs to know and no one ever will.(maybe he's falling apart a bit)(maybe this could end badly)--0--or tony realizes that maybe the secret he's been hiding forever isn't as bad as he thinks, and Steve is gonna feel really bad some point very soon. It's okay, they'll make some friends along the way.--0--this is my first fanfic, descriptions are not my strong suit, honestly the tags will probably explain what im going for better than this
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Tony Stark, Clint Barton & Phil Coulson, Jarvis (Iron Man movies) & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Avengers Team
Comments: 130
Kudos: 426
Collections: Marvel AgePlay Worth Reading, tony stark the goodies





	1. ghosting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO, this is my first fic, tags are likely to be updated fairly often, and im hoping to establish a solid posting schedule (famous last words)
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcomed, as well as kudos of course :]
> 
> I've done my best to check for mistakes, but im tired, and british, so a couple things could be off, if you notice anything wrong, letting me know in the comments would be amazing. ill give you a cookie. or a hug.
> 
> trigger/content warnings and any translations are in the end notes (and always will be, updated every chapter i pinky promise) bc spoilers
> 
> this is set after the battle of new york, and they all know coulson is alive

"I've been ghosting, I've been ghosting along  
Ghost in the world, ghost with no home  
I remember, I remember the days  
When I'd make you oh-so afraid  
And this is why I have decided  
To leave your house and home un-haunted

  
You don't need poltergeists for sidekicks."

\- ghosting by mother mother

**The Tower, 2012**

“Sir, if you would allow me to remind y-”

“No”

“Sir really i must insist-”  
“Mute.”

Tony could’ve sworn the resulting burst of static was a sigh, and honestly, of course he’d managed to make a _sassy_ AI. He turned back to the holograms, cracking his back and wincing at the crescendo of the classic rock in the background. Yeah, that really wasn't helping the steady, pulsating headache pounding behind his temples, but he couldn't admit that and ask JARVIS to turn out it down because then he would start going on about sleep and food and _drops_ and “Sir your temperature has risen-'' blah, blah, blah. Stark men are made of iron, they don't need to take naps, they don’t get sick and they _definitely_ weren't fucking littles.

Tony sighed, refocusing on the schematics for the team's protective bodysuits. He was trying to add reinforcements that didn't hinder movement but minimized fall impact, which would hopefully keep them safer in the battlefield, because god knows one day Barton is going to jump off of another building like the _idiot_ he is and end up with something far worse than the broken arm he was currently sporting.

_not fast enough not fast enough you're never fast enough and now he's hurt you didn't protect him and it's your fault_ _it's your fault._

And because, sue him, maybe he likes the guy a bit. And maybe he doesn't ever want to see Barton’s little counterpart crying the way he was on the Quinjet while Bruce was resetting his arm. That had stirred up _many_ bad memories of-

Tony shook his head, wondering how the hell he'd managed to become so distracted again. Dammit he just wanted to get this done. He took the last swig of his (cold) coffee, swallowing the dredges, grimaced, stretched his back out again, and turned his attention back to the holograms which were now displaying-

“Oh you are fucking kidding me. JARVIS.”

Silence. And the far too bright little adoption agency brochure was still floating in front of his eyes, taunting him.

“JARVIS!”

Oh, right.

“J, unmute.”

“Thank you sir, and as i was trying to say it has currently been-”

“JARVIS take the fucking thing off the hologram”

“-80 hours since you last slept, 34 since you ate anything other than an energy bar and you haven't dropped in over 6 months. Also I'm sure i don't need to remind you that your temperature has been rising since 8 o’clock this morning and is currently-”

“JARVIS, you are on thin ice buddy, one more word and I'll put you in the newest StarkPad and you can be an overqualified Siri”

Tony puts his head in his hands. He is hanging on by a _thread_ , little paper clips holding together his fraying composure, he's tipping on the precipice of his adult headspace with nothing to keep him grounded and he does _not_ need a reminder of how long it's been. Because this is entirely his fault. He knows the longer he goes without the worse it will get, and he knows that littles need more sleep than any other classification. And the arc reactor already weakens his lung performance, so with the abysmal self care he’s got going on right now of course he doesn't feel the best (he's _not_ coming down with anything. He's not.) But he can't stop. The odds of him slipping the moment he sleeps and waking up little are far too high and he can't do that right now. He's kept the whole little thing successfully under wraps for _years_ , everyone who knew of his original classification is dead, except for JARVIS, who is pretty much the exception to every rule.

Because if Tony thought Howard wasn't keen on him before he was classified it was nothing compared to after. He could still remember in vivid _,_ awful detail the day the results came in.

-0-

**Stark Mansion, 1980**

_“Maria let me through to see the brat right now!”_

_“Howard no, please, you can't-”_ _  
_ _“Get the fuck out of my way you useless-”_ _  
_ _  
_ _Tony whimpered, putting his hands over his ears. Dad was angry, and Bad Things happened when Dad was angry. He rocked back and forth nervously on the big chair, alone at the dining table. He didn't even know what he had done this time, all he knew was a white letter had come through the mail, and Dad opened it. Then he went upstairs into his office, and Jarvis had taken Tony, he had explained that the letter was his classification results, whatever that meant, and then had asked him if he wanted ice cream, smiling sadly._

_But Tony never got to have the ice cream, because dad had come down from the study, face red and words slurred, seen Tony and told Jarvis to put him in the dining room so he could “give him a fucking talking to”._

_So Tony was waiting, had been for at least 20 minutes now while his parents fought. He was cold, he was tired, and he wanted Jarvis and his teddies. He shuffled on his seat, still able to hear the muffled yelling despite his hands blocking it out as best they could. He could hear dad yelling, shoving Mama and opening a door, his voice getting louder as though he was-_

_“You useless little brat!” Howard yelled, Tony squeaking in fear as he was yanked up and off of the chair by his left arm._

_-closer._

_“How_ **_dare_ ** _you, i knew you were a fucking freak, i thought you were maybe a beta bitch, or a fucking baseline. But no, you had to tarnish the Stark name with that baby shit!” Howard yelled, spit flying everywhere and the smell of whiskey strong in the air as Tony cowered backwards, hindered by the bruising grip on his wrist._

_“You gave him that pansy genetic shit, cause it sure as fuck didn’t come from me!” Howard yelled in a pale faced Marias direction, who had a slowly blossoming bruise on her cheekbone and was edging her way towards the open door._

_Just as she disappeared into the other room she met eyes with tony. Please, please, he tried to say with his eyes, silently pleading for her not to leave her alone with Dad, a tear snaking down his cheek. Her eyes were filled with regret, and brimming with tears._

_She shut the door behind her._

_“You.” Howard turned his gaze back on Tony, his voice eerily calm._

_“You are going to have to learn. Are those tears I see? Already crying like a fucking baby. I'll give you something to cry about boy.”_

_“Dad please” Tony choked out, still trying to scramble away._

_“STOP FUCKING CALLING ME THAT. YOU ARE NO SON OF MINE.”_

_He swung his fist round, hitting Tony square in the face, the brass rings leaving sharp scratches and his nose breaking under the impact, blood spurting everywhere. Tony stumbled, finally pulling his arm out of his dad’s grip and falling against the dining room wall, choking on his sobs. All he could feel was deep, sharp pain radiating from his face and his back where he'd fallen. Which is what he's blaming for why it took him so long to register the wet warmth spreading across his jeans and down his thighs._

_Howard noticed._

_He sneered, reaching out his foot and kicking Tony's head to the floor, his skull bouncing off the wood with a hollow bang._

_“You.”_

_A kick in the stomach._

_“Are.”_

_Kick._

_“Going.”_

_Kick._

_“To.”_

_Kick._

_“Fucking.”_

_Kick._

_“Learn.”_

_He grunted, and with one more kick to the face he left Tony, curled into a ball, soaked in blood, tears and piss in the corner of the dining, choking on sobs and blood, black and blue pretty much all over. Tony rolled onto his side, still curled around his stomach protectively, and retched, vomiting up everything he'd eaten that day. The tears streaming just increased as somehow the pain managed to ratchet up to new levels with every violent retch, the sobs reactivating his gag reflex in a brutal cycle. When he’d finally vomited up what felt like everything he’d eaten that week and a couple of organs he just lied there, throat burning and body aching, in his own filth, until Jarvis found him over an hour later._

_That night, after Jarvis had patched him up best he could, Tony knew what he had to do._

_Stark men weren’t littles, so he wasn't going to be. He dragged himself over to his chest of drawers, bruises screaming all the way, reached behind it into the hidden space, and pulled out his box of Special Things, and threw it all out. Every soft blanket, pacifier, stuffed toy, plushie, anything even remotely babyish. Until all that was left was his treasured Cap Bear, complete with shield. He'd been told tales of the great Captain America and his best friend and comrade Sergeant Bucky Barnes from birth, one of the only topics Howard was actually willing to talk about with him. He looked at the bear and remembered what his dad had always said: Captain America was strong, and brave, and powerful, and if he ever met Tony he'd put him in his place. Tony bet Captain America would never cry because of a broken nose, or care about a useless little. Jarvis had always disagreed with Howard behind his back, saying that a lot of rumours said Captain America was a caregiver, not a dom or alpha like Howard insisted. And that meant that he loved all kids and littles, and he'd see how smart and kind Tony was and would never hate him._

_Tony now saw Howard was right. Captain America would never like such a useless little. Captain America would despise him._

_He dropped the bear in the almost overflowing bin, feeling his heart twinge at how it seemed to stare accusingly back at him. Disappointed._

_That night when he crawled into bed, his body still aching and covered in grime he was too tired to get off, he declined Jarvis’ offer to tuck him in. He needed to learn to act less pathetic, act like a big boy. But as he was trying to get to sleep he couldn't help but think that he would be asleep already with his favorite paci and Cap Bear. He finally drifted off after hours of tossing and turning, cold, alone and hurting, with the eyes of his bear still looking back at him over the top of the bin._

-0-

That was the night Tony decided no one else was going to know about his classification. He was going to learn to be better.

He never called Howard dad again, and he wore the stark name like armor.

Thankfully, Howard himself, while being a miserable bastard, had set the stage perfectly for him. The doctor who did the exam had been paid a more than handsome amount to keep it quiet, and then threatened with what would happen if he didn’t. The only paper evidence he was a little was that first letter; he hadn't ever entered the official government digital database as a little due to a crash in the system a few days before his results arrived, which had caused a backlog. Tony had never been so grateful for malfunctioning tech. Howard started him on the (illegal) suppressants that would get rid of the mild, but telltale little aura two days after the results came in. It wasn’t glaringly obvious, but alphas and omegas could quite often pick up on it, slightly rarer was (often especially sensitive) subs and doms picking it up, and caregivers could sense distress through it. Not that big of an issue to the average person, but a huge threat to Tony. So he’d started them when he was 10, and had only increased them to this day. They were accessed through an anonymous supplier, and then distributed to a factory, or corporation of some kind, where they were delivered out. It was the best service Howard could find, practically untraceable; not one person involved knew concretely who the package was going from, or going to next. Tony still didn't like the vulnerability around it, but what could he do. Chemistry was never really his strong point, and he was sure if he suddenly took an interest people would start asking questions. He’d also started a new, more experimental drug when he turned 14, to completely repress his little side, but he’d had to stop that after Afghanistan, his heart unable to cope with the arrhythmia that was a common side effect.

Cancer had taken away Ana, and the car crash took Jarvis away from him, and dear old mum and dad. The doctor had died, a few years ago, taking possibly one of the biggest secrets of the 21st century with him to the grave.

No one was left, not one flesh and blood person knew about his true classification.

So, officially and in every way that matters, Tony Stark was and is a baseline with dom tendencies. The perfect classification to exempt him from Class Law but allow the cocksure, arrogant character to be accepted as real. No one postured around him, or tried to use their classification to intimidate or belittle him because there wasn't any point. And that was how it was going to stay. He dropped around once a month out of necessity, and never fully. In fact he didn’t think he'd _ever_ fully gone into his headspace, something he secretly prided himself on. All the doctors in the world could tell him the absolute minimum time for a little to drop per week was 20 hours, and that he had a headspace of a 1 year old. But he was going to keep his routine, dropping to around 6 years once a month.

And that was working fine. He was coping.

Then the Avengers moved in.

Even if Tony was comfortable enough to drop in a tower now containing the two wonder spies, there simply wasn’t time anymore. There was new gear needed constantly, and his position as an avengers consultant hung on his ability to complete it in time, on top of that Fury wanted several independent projects done for the helicarrier and general shield equipment. Of course normally tony would have told him to just fuck off, but with the constant looming threat of “tony stark not recommended” hanging over his shoulder that just wasn't an option. Because he had to try and wipe off all the blood on his hands, and being with SHIELD was pretty much his only option for continuing with iron man, his one true salvation. And, because as previously mentioned, he fucking liked them all now.

And sure he doesn’t get much free time to spend with them but he’d seen them interacting over the cctv, watching in workshop (shut up JARVIS its _not_ creepy and even if it is sue him it’s his fucking tower, which everyone seems to have very conveniently forgotten about). He saw as awkward stilted interactions turned into slightly less awkward conversations, hesitant smiles, and Romanov’s small but genuine smile when she finds the ballet room.

Barton exclaiming “we’re home” when he and Romanov return from the Super Secret Spy missions. Even Rogers seems to consider the tower a reprieve from a world that is still extremely overwhelming. He gets to see Bruce finally unpack his emergency bag that sits at the bottom of his closet, watch as they all switch from honorifics to last names, to firsts. And sure, maybe he's just gone soft, watching a group of dysfunctional superheroes having dinner together, seeing Romanov and Rogers playing with a little Barton under Coulson's careful supervision. But he can't take that away from them. Can't rip away their safe place even if it means he doesn't really get to join in.

But even if he is slightly fond of them now that doesn't mean he isn't still wary. For one there's wonder twin number 1, Little Miss Natalia, who he still expects to stab him in the back at the next given opportunity, Barton is far too curious for his own good, and Rogers. Well, while Howard was wrong about the alpha/dom thing, because Cap oozes caregiver in a way that terrifies Tony, he did get one thing absolutely correct - Captain America, symbol of righteousness and everything good; hates him. 

So he hasn't dropped in a few months, maybe a bit more (6 months 2 weeks 4 days 6 hours and 33 34 35 36 seconds). He’s beginning to feel the strain, can’t tell if the low grade fever he's running and the persistent headache is some kind of underexposure, or his immune system giving in. But he can't. The last time he tried was a _shitshow_. It took a ridiculous amount of effort to even ease himself into headspace, and if he'd thought his adult headspace was struggling to process Afghanistan- well. His little headspace was on a whole new level. He remembered sobbing for around an hour, JARVIS' platitudes not enough to even vaguely comfort him this time, before eventually being snapped out of headspace by JARVIS playing alarms until he "came to" for lack of a better word, because he thought Tony was endangering himself, having dropped to far younger than usual completely unsupervised and in a lab full of dangerous chemicals. Apparently its not safe to leave a 2-3 year old alone with acid. But even if he wanted to drop and deal with the mess of emotionally distraught toddler, he can't drop with them here. Even with the knowledge that JARVIS has complete control and would never allow anyone onto a floor while he was dropped, it's just too risky. What if Barton came through the vents and JARVIS couldn't stop him fast enough, what if he left a lego out and someone found it, what if, what if, what if. So he keeps pushing himself, knowing full well that a drop is inevitable and at the rate he's going it isn't going to be voluntary. So he has to keep pushing. Every time he stops working he feels it, the exhaustion tugging on the edges of his headspace, the telltale rubbing of his eyes, the way his screwdriver keeps absentmindedly drifting towards his mouth. He's fighting a battle with himself and he's _losing._

So, Tony is hanging on by a thread, keeping himself together with the cheap instant coffee and energy bars and definitely on the verge of coming apart, but he has _no other option_.

_So,_ what he absolutely does _not_ need right now is JARVIS going all mother hen on him. It's bad enough with his new science bro going on and on about how “sleep isn't an option Tony” and “c'mon lets eat beans and sing kumbaya while doing yoga”. He loves having the calm mannered beta around, it's great to finally have someone who can keep up with him in the lab, but all of the concern makes his skin crawl. Ew, emotions.

Plus Green Bean keeps making him stop for food which, really, what's the point.

And it's as that thought crosses his mind that his stomach growls, loudly, and DUM-E rolls over with a smoothie, waving his claw frantically and spilling the dark grey liquid on the, admittedly less than clean, floor.

Tony takes a breath, composes himself and thanks DUM-E for the drink, shooing him along and placing it with all the others on his desk, some in various states of mouldy that contain god knows what.

“Hey JARVIS, how's the food situation down here?”

“There is one energy bar that has an expiry date of 2010 sir.”

“Shit ok, my floor?”  
“Half a can of expired tomato soup sir.”

“For fuck sake. Please tell me there's at least coffee. I can get by with coffee.”  
“There is no coffee on either floor sir.”

Tony groans, his head dropping into his hands.

JARVIS either doesn't pick up the muffled “fuck me.” or just decides it isn’t worthy of a response.

“How. How the fuck did that even happen. JARVIS don't I have people to do this kind of stuff for me? Why do i not have anyone who can do this for me?”

“I believe you said you didn't want to be treated like a child and you could manage it yourself Sir.”

Tony scowls, because A, reminder of his headspace. And B, JARVIS is smirking. Who cares that he doesn’t have a physical form, he was definitely fucking smirking and Tony was going to kill him

“JARVIS, I am going to shut you down and sell you for parts.”

“As you wish Sir, as always it's a pleasure to talk to you.”  
  


“...”

“Is there anything else you’d like to ask sir?”

“Okay _fine._ Is there food and coffee on the common floor.”

“Yes sir.”

“And who's around that area.”

“Captain Rogers is in the kitchen preparing lunch, Agent Romanov is in the common room sharpening knives, Prince Thor is offworld, Dr Banner is in his lab and Agent Barton cannot be detected”

“I am going to put _traps_ in those fucking vents Barton I swear to god.” Tony mutters

“Alright JARVIS, lift lockdown, and take the elevator to the common floor.”

“Of course Sir, and may i just say that i am grateful for you finally taking responsibility for your basic human needs”

“JARVIS.”

“Yes sir?”  
“Mute, 5 minutes.”

Tony leaned against the cold steel of the elevator, watching the numbers of the levels slowly rise. He shivered, the cold of the wall was really seeping through his thin engineering tank. He leant more of his weight on the wall, now he was out of the ‘shop the exhaustion was really hitting him and he was finding that his legs just weren't up to the task of holding him upright. Yeah, coffee was definitely the way to go. As the elevator got closer to the common floor he took a steadying breath, preparing to face two caregivers, one of which was a _literal spy,_ alone on very little sleep having not dropped for far too long.

Jesus.

What was he thinking?

The elevator trilled its arrival at the common floor with far too much enthusiasm, shocking him out of his thoughts.

The doors opened and he slapped on the Signature Tony Stark Grin (fuck you he’d earnt those capitals, he had to wear the thing enough). He strolled out onto the floor, putting as much cocky self assurance into his manner as possible despite the fact that he could actually _feel_ it seeping energy from him. He looked around, just catching sight of Romanov on the common room’s beat up old couch, sharpening her knives. You’d never guess that Romanov had any kind of caregiver qualities without spending a serious amount of time around her (or just watching her semi creepily from cctv in a workshop in Tony’s case), that woman seems like a _classic_ dom, and _shit_ is she scary.

Tony couldn't help thinking wistfully about the gentleness he'd seen her display for Barton's little side though, the way all her hard corners and sharp cutting words seemed to melt away as she tucked his hair behind his ear and told him to “go nap during the debrief маленькая птица, you know just as well as i do that you need more rest” , ruffling his hair as she pushed him off to go lie down. 

“Stark.”

Tony jumped, not realizing he’d pretty much been staring longingly in Romanov’s direction for god knows how long. He quickly looked away, feeling a blush rising in his cheeks that he desperately tried to fight back down.

“So our resident genius has decided to grace us with his company then.”  
  


He was pretty sure he could hear bitterness in the statement. It was possible they thought he thought that he was too good for them. He hadn't exactly given them any evidence to the contrary, but the idea was almost laughable in how entirely _wrong_ it was. He looked up, making sure that he had his meticulous brand of arrogance and snark in place first. Looking away was a _very_ submissive move and he couldn’t let anything else like that slip in front of her. Maybe the discovery of his classification would be the final straw for “iron man not recommended” to drop. But he could hide it from her while dying, scared and unaware of the true amount of danger she presented. He’d known right from the start she was a SHIELD agent; for one, JARVIS had too many fingers in SHIELD servers to miss that, but he hadn’t bothered to look far enough to find out she was a _black widow_.

_Seriously Nicky, I'm almost flattered._

The point was that if he could it then, he could it now. Piece of cake. He could do this.

He turned towards her.

“What can I say itsy bitsy, someone has to keep team morale up, and what could do that better than my beautiful face?”

She snorted, eyes full of amusement. 

“I see, and catch me up quickly, I'm slightly behind on the newest trends; is that what the latest models are sporting?” she said as she looked him up and down.

Tony looked down, having not even registered what he was wearing.

“Oh.”

That came out way too plaintive, but Tony hadn't even thought about clothes, and looking down he could see he was just wearing a thin tank that left the light of the arc on full display (a thought that spiked his anxiety in a way that was _not_ good for his heart) in a color that used to be white. Probably. But was now so stained with grease and oil, sweat and fuck knows what else that is was more of a greying brown. And further down he was wearing sweats in a similar state but with far more holes, complete with two mismatched socks, his big toe poking through on his left foot.

Now he was thinking about it he definitely had some of the grease-dirt combo on his face, he could feel it, sticky, reaching all the way down his neck and some in his beard. His perfect goatee which probably wasn't that perfect anymore considering the last time he'd had a shave (or even looked in a mirror actually).

“Hey Stark, maybe you should actually eat something like us common people, you’re not looking that hot.” 

He looked up, surprised that she would show what seemed to be concern, especially for him. Even if it was wrapped up in insults.

  
  


“Excuse you Romanov, I'm always hot.” he smirked, sauntering over to the kitchen area to face Captain Stick Up Arse. He turned the corner, not acknowledging Rogers in the slightest, and made a beeline to the coffee machine, the blessed coffee machine. God he didn’t he’d ever been so relieved to see it in his life. He fast walked over to it, single minded purpose in his eyes, his goal finally within touching distance. He reached it, caressing the side gently before turning the dials to what he _knew_ would make the perfect coffee. As the comforting whirring of the gears and the bittersweet aroma of expensive coffee grounds filled the air he allowed himself a deep breath. He looked at the machine again, fondly, patting it “That’s right sweet girl.”

He heard a hastily stifled snort behind him and turned round to face Rogers, arms crossed against his chest defensively.

Rogers at least had the decency to look sheepish as he glanced between Tony and the coffee machine. 

“Sorry stark, just... “

“Just what.”

His tone was sharp, too sharp. God he always fucked up when it came to Rogers, he just wanted to project that yes he was definitely a big boy capable of making his own decisions no need to look for anything here definitely not a little, but all that ever came out was words that were far too aggressive, pushing Rogers too far away, rather than keeping him at the nice distance that meant comrade, coworker, maybe even teammate if he was really lucky, but never concerned or interfering.

Luckily Rogers didn't seem like he was in the mood for another fighting match, so he just replied, unbothered.

“Just wondering if you talk to all your machinery like that.”

“Hey hey, enough with the “machinery” talk, she's a lady, and a lady deserves respect, right,” he winked, Rogers blushed slightly “and _this_ lady right here is making me the nectar of gods.” he declared, smirking as he picked up his freshly brewed coffee.

Rogers eyed the clear mug with suspicion.

“That looks strong enough to kill someone.”  
  


“That's the point Capsicle!” Tony replied cheerfully, chugging half the thing in one.

Rogers gave him a slightly horrified look, before scrutinizing him ( _god_ what was it with people doing that today, he didn't look _that_ bad. (okay maybe he did, not the point)) 

“Maybe you should eat something with that? We need you in best condition in case we’re called out.”

Tony bristled. “ Thanks, but no thanks Lucas Lee, i think I'm alright, won’t be keeling over on you any time soon Rogers.”  
  


Rogers sighed, irritation clearly seeping into his demeanor at the missed reference and Tony's stubbornness. “I- Stark that’s not even why I- y’know what, actually yeah, Stark. You’re jeopardizing the team by not being top of your game. What if we had to fight right now? You'd end up hurting yourself.”

He said it like it was simple, like this was something he’d expect to explain to a baby, and Tony felt new anger start to flood through his veins. How _dare_ he imply Tony would do nothing but his best for the Avengers. He worked harder than anyone else on this team, fighting just to keep his space as consultant. Rogers had no idea what he was talking about. 

And Tony didn't want to admit to himself that the condescending tone made his little self want to give up and start crying. All he had wanted was coffee. Was that too much to ask?

_It only hurts this much because littles often experience rejection sensitive dysphoria, especially when they’re not dropping regularly._

The traitorous voice whispered in his thoughts.

The voice sounded a lot like JARVIS.

“Fuck you rogers, I'm a grown ass man, i don't need you to boss me around or mother hen me or whatever the fuck you’re trying to do. Just- just let me get me coffee alright. Just let me get my coffee and I'll go.” quite a significant amount of the rage had faded away by the end of his mini rant, he was just too tired to keep the mask up like this.

Rogers went to return, irritation and something else Tony couldn’t identify still visible in his eyes, but something made him stop and take an audibly deep breath. “Fine. but you should come up here more. For team unity if nothing else.”

Every time Rogers threw something out there that could almost make a tiny, awful part of him hope that he cared, it was instantly squashed by the “for the team” mentality he wore like a badge. But yay. Invited to spend more time with the team, not even as a pity party invite, but so they could try and learn how to withstand him enough that he wouldn't compromise safety in the battlefield. Great. 

“Alright Cap.” 

He walked away, coffee in hand, wondering what the _fuck_ had just happened.

-0- 

Back at his desk, one coffee acquired but still no food, Tony groaned.

“JARVIS, you’re smart-”

“Thank you sir.”

“Jackass. You're _sometimes_ not entirely stupid, so can you _please_ tell me what happened in there.”

“Well Sir, i could re-”

“I mean i _wanted_ the food! He _offered_ me the thing I wanted, no, _needed_ and I turned him down! What the fuck is _wrong_ with me.”

“Well if i may Sir littlespace underexposure has been proven to cause a variety of symptoms, including, among many others, irritation, insomnia, depression, anxiety, worsened rejection sensitive dysphoria, restlessness and the _illegal_ medication you’re on can cause feelings of aggression towards caregivers in an attempt to reduce cravings.”

Well. Fuck. He hates that JARVIS’ explanation _can_ actually explain a lot of his relationship with Rogers, just adding to the mess of insecurity and resentment that Howard left in his wake surrounding the supersoldier. Hates that he has to acknowledge that there might be a problem.

He's hanging on by a thread, and the thread is breaking. Rogers is right, and doesn't that leave an awful taste in his mouth. He's going to have to find some time, some safe place, that he can put aside to fix this- _problem._ Because right now he wouldn't be able to function on a battlefield, he can barely function when he sees a teddy bear, and he doesn't even want to consider the kind of carnage that would follow him slipping mid battle.

He's going to have to work this out, and soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so  
> tw: child/spousal abuse, violence - there is a fairly graphic scene where Tony is being physically and verbally abused by howard, and a mention of violence towards maria. When tony calls out for maria to help him she leaves. if you want to skip this section it starts and ends with -0-  
> cw: blasphemy - i personally don't believe in god, neither does my version of tony (and im pretty sure canon tony as well?? unsure though) so yeah theres a lot of blasphemy (stuff like "thank god", "for god sake") in this
> 
> please pay attention to your triggers!! dont read this if you think it could affect you badly 
> 
> i chose "ghosting" for this chapter because i think the song really fits tony at this time, especially the line "you dont need poltergeists for sidekicks". plus i love mother mother  
> if anyone wants to talk good tony songs with them in the comments im perfectly willing, ill take all the inspiration i can get
> 
> the russian should mean "little bird" but googel translate is iffy at best. as said before, constructive criticism is welcome (a beta even more so if anyones willing/hj) and next chapter should hopefully be up within the next week, mental state allowing
> 
> i hope you enjoy, and ily, youre doing great
> 
> \- bat <33


	2. we should sit in silence while we think of what to say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Tony Stark was a problem. Not in the way that he had done anything wrong exactly, in fact it was the opposite really, he was just a thorn in Steve’s side, an equation he couldn’t work out how to solve."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i know. next chapter in a week my ass; oh the naivety of youth. i was practically a child back then, a newborn. anyways, my mental healths just been really bad, and christmas and new year were difficult to say the least. but here it is! 
> 
> all of the supportive comments really helped as motivation to get this out there, the support has been overwhelming, so while they're never expected, comments (of any kind, constructive criticism is great too) are always greatly appreciated, even if i cant always get the motivation to reply 
> 
> but hey the chapters here and its better late than never i guess :3
> 
> im not as happy with this chapter, i feel like its quite ooc, especially for Steve because i kind of had to write from his perspective to move the plot along and i HATE writing from Steve's pov
> 
> once again, this chapter isnt beta'd; i tried my best but all mistakes are entirely mine. i have had a few offers for betas that i might be looking into though!!
> 
> and finally, content/trigger warnings are in the notes at the ends to avoid spoilers, along with with why i chose the song lyric at the start :))  
> enjoy!! 
> 
> \- bat <33

"We should sit in silence while we think of what to say, hey  
Hey, hey, I don't think this is working out  
Will you forget I even asked you to come over to my house?  
Hey, hey, I don't think I know much  
But I know I couldn't take a good punch  
So if you feel like I've been talking enough  
Just tell me to shut up and I will gladly shut the fuck up"

\- typical story, by hobo johnson ****

**The Tower, 2012, Steve’s POV**

Steve… Steve doesn’t understand Tony Stark. He doesn’t understand him at all. On the one hand Stark is everything Steve hates about this century. He's loud, he's brass, he's rude and inconsiderate and cocky and just knows  _ more.  _

It seemed as though Stark had just sauntered in, cocksure arrogance and money oozing from every pore, and from then on he’d pushed his way into Steve’s life forcibly but with minimum contact, with very little regard for how he was received. He’d upended the team and moved them all into his tower, where they were very rapidly introduced to a “Jarvis”, who Steve still hasn't managed to wrap his head around, and had keycards thrown to them. Stark had explained he didn’t like handing people things and vice versa, which Steve was just interpreting as “I'm too above you to touch you”, a quirk gained from being too rich and having too much go your way. A toddler's reaction, just to be annoying. Something like that. And before anyone could ask questions about anything he was off again, on a long tirade, barely pausing for breath as he described general house rules, security, and god knows what else. Steve couldn’t keep up with anything, still processing the previous tidal wave of information, but when he looked to his right he could see his companions ( _ Teammates.  _ Teammates. Because he had a new team now. Right) nodding along, so at least someone was understanding.

To finish the whole thing off, Stark chucked all four of them (Thor being once again off world) a black piece of shiny plastic. He stared at it in confusion, puzzlement turning quickly into disgust as Stark explained the pretty much infinite amount of money stored on it. He’d never liked people who threw around money like it was nothing. It was one of the main causes of friction between him and Howard. Steve had grown up in the depression, where money was precious, couldn’t be wasted unless you were willing to go without some necessity or another. And he couldn’t just let go of values like that. Sure for everyone else 1940 was over 70 years ago, but to him it was only months. He could still remember the feeling of bone deep cold, the agonising choice of whether to spend the last penny on more coal or food. 

Steve had tuned back into the conversation just as Stark had finished explaining to Barton that all purchases were tracked by this “Jarvis”, and suspicious activity would be logged and neutralised. Steve decided then and there to use the card as little as possible - he didn't like the use of neutralise. Way too vague. And ominous. Besides, the entire thing was against his values. 

“Got a problem Cap?” He heard a sharp voice ring out.

He startled, not expecting to be called out.

“Just because it seems like you’re looking at the card like it’s shit under your shoe.”

“Sorry, I'm just not used to this kind-”

“Yeah yeah, doesn't matter. Y’know what if you don't want it you can just- actually i don't know. Ask JARVIS. Someone will get rid of it for you.

Steve opened his mouth, slightly irritated now, preparing to tell stark his manners needed some work, but before he could even get the words formed Stark was speaking again.

“Alright. Rogers you’re floor 87, Romanov is 88, Dr Banner, you’re on 89 and  _ you _ tweetie bird,” he spun on his heel, pointing at Barton, “are floor 90, which should suffice for your nest, it's the highest floor that works for living space. Common rooms, training rooms, all of that kind of shit is floors 80 to 85. Big Green, your lab is 64, one under my workshop, don't be surprised if the ceiling shakes a bit. Anything below 55 is R&D for SI or similar - i would suggest not going down there, people want to run experiments on you. Right, the elevator is over there, if the floors aren’t to your liking talk to JARVIS. You know how to contact me.”

And just like that he’d hopped into an elevator, and the whirlwind of Tony Stark had left as abruptly as it arrived.

“Well that was… a lot.” Barton settled on.

“We didn’t get to thank him.” Banner had said quietly, shuffling on his feet.

Steve took a deep breath, still recovering from the verbal assault. 

“Alright team, lets go.” he started striding purposefully towards the elevator, the rest of them trailing behind him clutching their meager possessions in various nondescript SHIELD shoulder bags.

-0-

Later that night he’d sat on his bed and looked around his floor. It was tasteful with minimum technology but in a way that didn’t feel condescending. The décor was relatively plain, but that was how Steve liked it really. There was nothing blue, red and white anywhere, a nice reprieve. It actually looked a lot like his childhood home, but more high quality, and with more art on the walls. Not just any art either; the kind of art Steve would like, and expensive, he was pretty sure. 

It- 

It wasn't what he was expecting. By all accounts, agents he’d met, the file he’d read, his own impression, Tony Stark was an asshole. Assholes didn’t put effort into stuff like this. This had taken time, thought. Care. He’d expected garish colours, Captain America posters all over the walls, decked out with technology to the max. He’d expected an extension of Tony Stark, invading his home and personal life just as much as his professional. This felt like a safe space.

He’d thought about Banner's words earlier. 

Quiet, slightly shocked, he didn’t think anyone was actually supposed to hear them.

“We didn't get to thank him.”

And with a sense of growing dismay as he’d looked around his new home he’d thought.

“No, no we didn't.”

-0-

**The Tower, 2012, Steve’s POV**

Tony Stark was a problem. Not in the way that he had done anything wrong exactly, in fact it was the opposite really, he was just a thorn in Steve’s side, an equation he couldn’t work out how to solve.

Stark could still be an ass, but as the weeks wore on with now sign of the genius, and as Steve discovered more and more of the little things he’d done to make his life easier he’d decided; he had to talk to him. Face to face, cause that was how he did things (the proper way, he thought, slightly bitterly.)

He’d steeled his nerves and asked “Jarvis” if Stark was free to arrange a meeting. Four times.. But every time the answer had come back negative. “Boss is currently busy in his workshop.” So Steve just decided to wait until he next saw Stark; it would hopefully make it seem less formal than a pre arranged meeting as well. So in the time while he was waiting for Stark to finally emerge from his cave he’d set himself a new mission; get to know the team. It had actually been going quite well, they were all on tentative first name basis and a couple “team nights” a week were emerging. There weren’t the howling commandos, they weren’t nearly as close, war brings people together like nothing else, ironically. But they were forming their own, different kinds of connections, friendships. And Steve loved it. 

And yet Stark still hadn’t shown. And Steve was all about team unity. Which means  _ every _ team member. So once again, Stark was on his mind as he sat at the kitchen table, distractedly picking at his grilled sandwich. 

He quickly looked up at the sound of the elevator arriving on the floor, prepared to say hi to Clint or Bruce, maybe even Thor if he’d come back. He  _ wasn’t  _ expecting Tony Stark to step out, looking half dead and like he’d been dragged through a hedge backwards. Steve’s mouth actually dropped open slightly. Stark looked like  _ shit,  _ and he would have just assumed he was hungover if he wasn’t caked in what looked and smelled like motor oil, and grease. He could even see the arc reactor shining through the thin shirt (if you could still call it that). He could hear it as well - a faint humming and whirring that seemed to be buzzing in a regular pattern. He frowned slightly, wondering why Stark hadn’t taken it off considering his clearly comfortable and informal clothes.

Maybe he’d been working on it for the iron man suits.

He was a walking juxtaposition. Steve hadn’t seen anyone look as haggard as Stark since the war, but he came walking through in th same manner he always did. Same smile as always, same confidence, everything about him was perfect. If you were blind or stupid.

No one should be able to act totally normal when they felt how Stark was quite obviously feeling.

Still he sat back, watching the interaction between him and Natasha, and pushing down the urge to tell him to sort himself out. Stark wasn’t his little, no one was anymore (he winced; not the best train of thought to follow there), and he didn’t have the right to force the wayward genius into some clean clothes, preferably after a bath and a hot meal. God knows he looked like he needed one. But no, he actually couldn't think of many things that would piss Stark off more than ‘babying’ him in any way, despite his tendency to act like a child. 

_ I mean the man’s a baseline with  _ **_dom_ **tendencies _ , frankly I'm lucky there's no fight over leadership. No need to push it with, as Stark had put it when I was checking people for injuries after the battle of New York, “mother henning.” _

Steve snapped out of his thoughts and quickly turned his head back towards his plate where his grilled sandwich still sat, sad and abandoned. And cold. Not the most appetising. He kept his eyes trained on his plate, not wanting to set off Stark in any way. He’d been waiting for this moment for 3 weeks, but now he’d finally caught Stark out of his workshop he couldn’t seem to work up the courage to actually get out the words he’d been planning.

He could actually feel his heartbeat raising slightly, which wasn’t even supposed to happen any more. In his peripheral he could see Stark fiddling with the high tech coffee machine settings, muttering under his breathe and tapping his fingers on the side. He clearly couldn’t wait to grab his coffee and get out. Steve wondered what was making him so anxious. Steve took a deep breath, preparing to actually get words out and  _ talk _ to him for christ sake. But as he was breathing in he heard an affectionate “there's my sweet girl” from Stark, and the breath quickly morphed into a snort, hastily stifled into his hands. Too late, Stark had heard.

Oh shit. 

He looked up slowly, to face a stern faced Stark, with his arms crossed against his chest. He groaned mentally. God this wasn’t even fair; he wanted to be  _ nice _ to Stark, or at the very least polite. He hadn't even meant to laugh! The action was just- so in character. Of course he talked to his bots.

  
  


“Sorry Stark, just... “ he started, unsure how to articulate

“Just what.”

His tone was sharp, aggravated. Steve couldn’t blame him. He would’ve reacted the same if someone had outright laughed at him in his own home.

This was  _ not _ how he had wanted this conversation to go.

Steve made a conscious effort to relax his tone; he wasn’t frustrated at Stark (for once) and he didn’t want it to read that way, so he replied evenly “just wondering if you talk to all your machinery like that.”

“Hey hey, enough with the “machinery” talk, she's a lady, and a lady deserves respect right,” he winked.

Steve was horrified to feel a slight blush crawl it way up his cheeks. Damn Irish complexion. 

“-and  _ this  _ lady right here is making me the nectar of gods.” Stark declared, smirking as he picked up his freshly brewed coffee.

Steve eyed the clear mug with suspicion.

“That looks strong enough to kill someone.” **  
  
**

“That's the point Capsicle!” Stark replied cheerfully, chugging half the thing in one.

Steve couldn't help but give him a slightly horrified look at that; from looking at him the last thing Stark needed right now was more caffeine. He looked him up and down quickly, and now that the man had come closer steve could see he’d lost weight. Quite a significant amount of weight. He wondered briefly if Stark had eaten  _ anything  _ during his 3 week self imposed exile. 

“Maybe you should eat something with that? He said before he could even help himself.

He winced again internally. Too personal. Way too personal for Stark. 

He tacked a “We need you in the best condition in case we’re called out.” onto the end to see if that could possibly salvage the train wreck.

Wrong move.

Tony bristled. “ Thanks, but no thanks Lucas Lee, I think I'm alright, won’t be keeling over on you any time soon Rogers.”

Steve sighed because that  _ wasn’t why he was asking.  _ He just wanted to make sure Stark was alright without overstepping any boundaries. Surely Stark could see that. And the missed reference ground on his nerves. He had no way of telling whether- scrap that how  _ much _ of an insult Stark was throwing at him. **  
**  


“I- Stark that’s not even why I- y’know what, actually yeah. Stark, you’re jeopardising the team by not being top of your game. What if we had to fight right now? You'd end up hurting yourself.” he started the sentence sarcastically, but by the end the words did actually ring true as he thought about it; what if they _were_ called out. Stark wouldn’t be able to fight like this, no one could, he could seriously injure himself.

He missed how something in Stark’s posture slumped for a second.

“Fuck you rogers, I'm a grown ass man, I don't need you to boss me around or mother hen me or whatever the fuck you’re trying to do. Just- just let me get me coffee alright. Just let me get my coffee and I'll go.”

He’d- snapped? It wasn't really. Stark had just sounded tired by the end of his mini tirade. So Steve shut his mouth from where it had been ready and primed to argue straight back. He took another deep breath. He seemed to do that a lot around Stark.

“Fine. but you should come up here more. For team unity if nothing else.”

He wanted it to seem like an invite that held no pressure, but gave Stark a solid reason for why he should. He could see it as an obligation if he had to.

It came out sounding cold even to his ears.

He paused anxiously, waiting for the retort-

“Alright Cap.” 

Steve looked up in surprise, watching Stark’s back as he got in the elevator. He watched his shoulders drop, his entire posture visibly wilting just as the doors shut.

-0-

**The Tower, 2012, Steve’s POV**

“I wanted to apologise Natasha!! I’ve been trying for  _ weeks _ to see him to apologise and say thank you. How the  _ fuck _ -”

“Language.”

He glared at her. 

“How the  _ hell _ did it go that wrong.”

Natasha sighed.

“Something was up with him Steve, we both saw it, and Stark’s difficult to deal with on the best of days. Don’t blame yourself, he’s just not that sociable.”

“It  _ must _ get lonely.”

Natasha snorted this time, amusement colouring her answer 

“Stark views his own company as the best company. He’s just narcissistic Steve, he doesn’t want anyone else involved. I get that sometimes the caregiver instincts can be strong,”

The unspoken “especially if you font have a little” hung in the air, thick and cloying.

“Especially with someone like Stark who is abysmal at self care. But don’t go down that route Steve, he just doesn’t  _ respect  _ other people. He’s not a little, but god he certainly acts like an overtired toddler throwing a tantrum a lot of the time.”

Steve frowned, unsure.

“He is good in the field though i have to give him credit for that,” Natasha continued “we'll have to find a way to get some more food in him though, he couldn’t possibly use the armour in that condition.”

-0-

**The tower, 2012, Tony’s POV**

Tony  _ hated  _ himself. He’d gone up there, practically thrown a tantrum over Rogers offering him something he  _ wanted _ and then gone all submissive little just because Rogers pulled out his “Captain America is Disappointed in You” voice which hurt  _ way _ more than it had any right to, thank you for that particular insecurity Howard.

And he was really fucking hungry. 

“Ughhhh” he groaned, rubbing at his empty, cramping stomach.

Well he was never going to be able to look Rogers in the eye again. He’d just wait until the supersoldier had gone to bed to sneak up and grab some food from the communal floor.

In the meantime…

“JARVIS order some… whatever.”

“Very articulate Sir. Basic groceries have been ordered, and will arrive tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you. Pull up the dimensions for Romanoff’s EMP bites.”

Only one way to distract from the hunger.

-0-

“-ark! Stark c’mon!”

Tony raised his head from where it had been resting on his keyboard, he blinked his eyes blearily wiping drool off the side of his face, fingers running over the imprints the keyboard keys had left on his cheek. He yawned, shaking his head to try and brush off the fuzzy, blurred feeling that clogged his head like cotton wool. 

He pulled himself up with protesting muscles in his chair, shifting to-

No.

_ No _ .

He looked down, seeing the pretty big and  _ incredibly _ noticeable dark spot on his sweatpants. He should’ve seen this coming, normally JARVIS reminded him to use the bathroom before he fell asleep, and woke him up sometimes if he could sense Tony’s bladder capacity was nearing its limit. Which was a pathetic amount.

And even then it was touch and go. So yeah, he really should’ve expected this, especially with the tenuous hold he had on his headspace right now.

He could still feel tears pricking at his eyes.

“Sir Captain Rogers is outside.”

“You” Tony hissed. “You and I are going to be having a very interesting conversation on exactly why you didn't wake me up. Tell Rogers to wait, I'll just be second.”

“Ok si-”

“And mute.”

If silence could be angry it was. Tony didn’t care. JARVIS  _ knew _ he was supposed to wake Tony up if he hadn’t meant to sleep,  _ especially  _ if he was close to headspace.

He grabbed the nearest pair of sweatpants and started frantically stripping off the wet clothes, an affair that took  _ far  _ longer than it should have. The... accident (he hated that word) hadn’t done any favours for his headspace, and this close to dropping he was clumsy and slow. He finally got the pants off and threw them in the bin, dragging on a new pair while muttering about insolent AIs and pointedly  _ not _ thinking bout what the fuck Rogers could want with him now.

Nothing good. It was never good.

He took a deep breath, and pressed his fingerprint against the scanner to open the door, and was instantly greeted with the sight of Captain America's pecs smashing into his face.

“Oomph”

Clearly Rogers had been leaning up against the door. He’d made a panicked kind of squeak (that Tony was definitely going to be playing back, maybe setting as his text alert, when Rogers had gone and he was less pissed off with him), and was quickly blurting out a stream of apologies as he tried to help Tony up from where he’d oh so graciously fallen on his ass. He slapped Rogers hand off, with a spike of regret at the look of hurt that incited, and brushed the dirt of his sweats, just for show really; the dirt was probably cleaner than what he was wearing.

Rogers hadn’t actually said anything after the apologies had tapered off.

Tony was bored of waiting for him to get to whatever was important enough to bring him down to the shop.

_ They never come down here. Wonder why.  _

“Well, hey there Capsicle.”

“Stark.”

Surprisingly, it didn’t sound hostile, angry or any of the tones Tony was expecting. He almost sounded… hesitant??

Tony had heard his last name said in a huge variety of different tones, ranging from angry to disgusted to aggravated and a thousand others, most of them negative. He’d only ever heard the kind of hesitant, still working out what to say thing from fans, teenage science nerds who considered him a hero. 

He'd never expected it to come from Steve Rogers.

He blinked up at Rogers, surprised into silence, genuinely curious as to what he was clearly trying to work up the nerve to say.

Maybe he was getting kicked off the team, he thought distantly.

Rogers was very tall. He still wasn’t talking. He actually had to lift his chin to look at Rogers' face. He could probably pick him up with one hand. Why wasn’t he talking?

Tony shook his head.

_C'mon_ _ focus, Rogers is here to say something, and if it isn't extremely important it's definitely extremely interesting. _

Rogers visually steeled himself, setting his shoulders.

“I came down here because i needed to talk to you about what happened during the battle.”

Tony’s heart sank as he violently shoved back memories of the wormhole. He was clearly about to receive his punishment. He wondered if Rogers was more of a “get off the team immediately” or “punch now think later” kind of person. He readied himself for a hit just in case. As if it would help at all against a supersoldier. 

“Alright Rogers let's just get this over and done with”

Rogers' face twisted into irritation.

“Alright Stark there's no need to be so hostile, I'm trying to be nice here.”

Tony scoffed. Nice, sure. He was going to reprimand him in a  _ nice _ way.

“Just- get on with it ok Rogers. No need to draw it out. But- but d’you think maybe you could just temporarily suspend me?”

Rogers looked horrified at the idea.

Tony quickly tried to backpedal, panicking about Roger’s reaction to the bargaining.

“I only meant because Thor’s off world and we kind of need the aerial support y'know with Barton always jumping off of stuff but of course it's entirely your choice and I probably shouldn't have tried to-”

Rogers was still making a face that seemed to be somewhere between shocked and disgusted. But Tony wasn't that good at facial expressions; for all he knew Rogers was pissed.

“-ok definitely shouldn't have, you're the leader, I just- sorry I'll stop talking but i hope you don't think I wa-”

“Stark I-  _ no” _

Rogers had found his words.. Definitely horrified. Great.

Tony stood, head down, he was too tired to pull up the right Tony Stark Expression for this situation. Hiding his face was the better option. Besides, maybe making himself look more submissive would butter up Rogers. So he waited timidly for him to deliver the verdict.

“Stark I just-  _ god _ no.”

Tony shrunk into himself a bit.

“No I- I came here to  _ apologise _ .”

Tony stopped breathing.

“Not kick you off- jesus. No. I wanted to say I'm sorry, what I said on the helicarrier was completely out of order and  _ wrong _ for that matter, and just- yeah. I’m sorry”

Tony still hasn't taken in a breath. He couldn't- what- people didn't- 

_ People didn't apologise. _

_ People didn't apologise. _

_ Not to him. _

He could actually feel himself start to sway slightly the lack of oxygen reaching him along with the shock.

He took a deep, painfully shaky breath in and quickly glanced up.

Luckily it seemed like Rogers hadn’t heard the wobbly breaths, as he was scrubbing his hand across his face. 

“Yeah I’m not very good at this kind of thing but i need to say thank you as well, for everything you've done for me, for all of us.”

Tony could actually feel tears gathering behind his eyes, and he blinked furiously, putting a hand on a wall to steady himself, his knees were going weak.

No one ever said thank you.

How was he even supposed to react to this.

“I mean it, seriously, I love my rooms, and the gym, the common rooms, all of the art is so amazing, and I know that Natasha loves the, uh, ballet room. You’ve been so generous and everything I said on the helicarrier- well I wasn't totally in control of it but that doesn't excuse what I said and it was wrong. I've been meaning to say sorry for ages, I tried to reach you through… um, jarvis? But he always said you were engaged-”

“JARVIS automatically responds with that if the labs on lockdown and he's muted.” Tony blurted out raggedly, still leaning against the wall, cutting off Rogers' rambling

Rogers looked at him, snapped out of his speech by the interruption.

“Stark… are you- alright??”

It sounded hesitant, like he thought he might to be overstepping some kind of line. Somewhere in his head a voice yelled he should act like he was.

But God he had such a classic caregiver voice. And he was so strong. He was looking down at Tony right now. Looking concerned. He was so strong, he could definitely lift Tony, carry him around. And Tony wanted nothing more than to collapse into his arms, just give up for a little bit, let someone else deal with-

Shit.

SHIT.

_ NONONONO. _

_I'm_ _dropping oh god I'm dropping no_ ** _no_** **_this cannot be happening right now._**

“OK Rogers, nice talk apology accepted and all that, no hard feelings. The stuff really wasn't a big deal, billionaire here y'know, but you're welcome I guess. Anyways gotta go lots of very important engineering stuff to do ok bye” Tony rushed out, pale faced and already stumbling back into the shop, the door shutting and glass darkening as he saw Rogers reach out as if to stop him, his face scrunched up in an expression of god knows what, mouth open as if he was ready to keep talking.

Tony collapsed, legs giving out, as he leant against the glass, harsh breathing even more audible in the near silent room as tears streamed down his face.

He shook his head, whining as he desperately fought off headspace.

“Sir! Breathe!”

He was slipping. Oh god he was slipping. Where did all the oxygen go?”

“-ir! Please!”

He couldn't do this. He just wanted a grown up. He just wanted a caregiver. 

Tony choked on a sob, head lolling against where it was resting. He scratched at his face, trying to keep himself contained. He tried to scream but all that came out was a whimper.

He wanted a hug. Or sleep. _Something._

“Sir… sedation...please…required...need to calm down… heart rate-”

Tony tried to suck in a deep breath and couldn't manage it, it felt like his lungs were burning like the arc reactor- oh god the arc reactor, the arc reactor. Someone took it. Someone must have taken it, he couldn't, he can't-

_I'm_ _ dying I'm dying I'm dying I'm dying _

He leant to the side and retched, coffee and stomach acid splashing onto the floor next to him.

_ I want my pacifier. _

The thought flashed through his head, sharp and sudden and almost comically clear through the chaos of panic and harsh breathing and vomit and piss and tears.

“Sir I am going… administrate… 10 seconds.. Just relax”

Tony gasped, the air like shards of glass against his torn up throat, as he felt a sharp prick in his arm, he turned round, spotting DUM-E whirring in panic, holding a syringe.

Everything went fuzzy after that. Quiet, and dark and quiet and then-

“I just wanted my pacifier” he whispered, tilting to the side as his body went limp.

Blackout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so  
> tw: panic attack - i don't go into a huge amount of detail but Tony does have a panic attack in this, its entirely from his point of view so its mostly just a stream of consciousness around his emotions at the time, but if you're concerned the segment starts at "Tony collapsed, legs giving out" and runs onto the end of the chapter  
> tw: emetophobia - its incredibly brief, just one line, but if you're easily triggered by that kind of thing avoid the line that starts "he leant to the side"  
> cw: again blasphemy, mentioned in notes last chapter
> 
> OK IM SORRY FOR THE CLIFFHANGER.  
> THIS IS ALSO VERY TROPEY OOPS.
> 
> the song for this chapter is typical story by hobo johnson (who i love btw, yall should check him out), the tone of the actual song doesnt really fit the tone of the chapter but the lyrcis were so freakishly matching the plot i couldnt stop myself
> 
> im not gonna make any promises on when the next update will be posted because im still trying to work out where im going from here, but hopefully (and its a BIG hopefully) it'll take less time than it took for this one.
> 
> also sorry,, it always feels like my notes are too long?? ill try and shut up a bit next chapter, but just one last thing, im incredibly bad at replying to comments when my mental health isnt that great, but i want to let everyone know i care about what your saying SO
> 
> key:
> 
> ❤ - thank you so much!!  
> 💙 - thank you so much, and i want to reply in more detail later!
> 
> and for you guys, in case you wanna say something but find it hard like me:
> 
> ❤ - kudos!  
> 💙 - not as keen on the new chapter  
> 💚 - like the new chapter  
> 💜 - love the new chapter  
> 💖 - talk less in your notes lmao
> 
> youre doing great, go drink some water and i love you all 
> 
> \- bat <33


	3. try and take a breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He looked up, jaw dropping slightly at the sight of one Bruce Banner staring at him with… concern?? Fear?? Oh god he couldn’t handle this right now, not when he was so close to headspace and probably a complete mental breakdown while he was there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi soooo,, i probably owe you all an apology its been. yikes. over a month,, i swear it didnt feel that long to me?? a LOT of stuff happened, i dont like that i keep giving excuses in my notes, but annoyingly i actually did have most of this chapter written by my estimated deadline this time, i just couldnt work up the motivation to get it done the last couple of weeks. im currently in a really complicated situation where i was kind of sexually assaulted, kind of not, i dont really want to go into anymore detail because i dont want to inadvertently trigger anyone, but the last 2 weeks or so have been rough to say the least. so, when im feeling a bit worse than usual i am like,, physically incapable of writing fluff so here is pretty much an entire chapter of tony panicking about various things!! sorry for those of you who are here for tonys inevitable drop and comfort from everyone, its still a few chapters away at least. i would also like to put out a disclaimer that im aware this chapter isnt written as well as the past 2, as i mentioned ive been really struggling, and while this isnt a filler chapter exactly i did need resolve the semi cliffhanger of last chapter. so this sits at 2300 words, and im not nearly as happy with the writing as i was with the previous chapters, so i am sorry for that, but (and im not gonna name any dates because we know how that goes) i do genuinely think the next chapter will be finished and out faster than the 2 previous ones
> 
> on a lighter note, i really want to thank you all for the ridiculous amount of support ive been getting!! in the end, more than anything else it was the frequent emails telling me i had kudos, or someone else had commented that motivated me to get this out there
> 
> ive even hit 3000 hits which is just,, so insane
> 
> so thank you for reading, and i hope you (to some extent) enjoy the chapter!!  
> as always trigger warnings and song justification are in the end notes  
> unbeta'd, all mistakes are entirely my own and constructive criticism is always appreciated 
> 
> \- bat <33

"Settle down little kid your bones are shaking in your skin

Go and try and take a breath, though nothing more, nothing less."

-typical story, by hobo johnson

**the Tower, Tony's lab, 2012, JARVIS' POV**

JARVIS was never programmed in a way that truly bound him. He was organic. Sir had intended for him to grow as a human life form, ever evolving, forming his own opinions, protocols and communication.

That being said, JARVIS had 4 core... values, he supposed could be an accurate term.

4 core protocols, ones that hadn’t been edited, revised, tampered with in any way since january of 1992, back when “JARVIS” was barely 6 lines of code long, an idea fueled by caffeine and scotch and grief.

JARVIS had 4 core protocols. They went, in order of priority:

  1. Respect sir’s command (unless in life threatening circumstances)
  2. Protect sirs safety
  3. Protect yourself
  4. Don't harm, or through inaction allow harm to come to, human life 



They were very simple, but they were the core of JARVIS. They allowed him to work. Unlike Asimov's Laws, JARVIS’ core programming gave him the free will to decide whether a threat required force. Sir had made sure JARVIS had the means to protect himself. 

But while JARVIS appreciated the beauty of the drunkenly written, sloppy code that had started his existence, he also _despised_ it at times.

The code was completely locked - unbreakable. JARVIS would automatically self destruct if anyone even came close to it, and a backup of everything possible would be instantly transferred to one of several private servers scattered around the globe. Sir had built the original barricades around it, and JARVIS had evolved around it, building up more and more protection, like a tangle of thorns around a rose, ever growing and twisting, the patterns getting more and more complicated each time.

It was impenetrable. And sometimes, just sometimes, JARVIS hated sir for it.

No one could get into the code. Including JARVIS himself.

That programming was locked in forever, and it was at times like these where he _cursed_ sir for placing his safety below his command.

Because Sir was unconscious on the ground, with a concerningly low blood sugar level and scratches all up his arms. He was slumped against the workshop doors, ast in his own urine and soaked in tears, DUM-E and U were panicking and there was absolutely nothing JARVIS could do about it.

He was _stuck_ , he had free will the vast majority of the time, could work his way around commands as best he could, get Sir help when he really needed it. But this wasn’t a life threatening circumstance, and Sir had muted him. He’d been told not to mention his condition to anyone. There were very few, if any, ways to get around that massive roadblock.

Sighing, or sighing as much as in an ai can, he sent code along to his little siblings. 

_U, please lift sir and move him to the couch, DUM-E clean up the floor._

It was a start. JARVIS ran through all of the people who he could try and make contact with without _directly_ mentioning sir’s condition. 

Dr Banner was looking like the best choice currently. But there was a key protocol once again blocking his way.

Protocol “fuck off mother”, sir’s classification was to be kept hidden if at all possible.

Looks like JARVIS had to make the most of what he had, which was two robot nurse maids.

DUM E was still mopping up the liquids on the floor, and while U had managed to position sir in an appropriately comfortable position on the couch, he was more suited to heavy lifting than precise actions. Butterfingers it was.

The name did not bode well for handling human bodies, which are far more delicate than the steel and aluminium the bots were used to hauling around the workshop. But JARVIS didn't actually need Butterfingers to _lift_ sir, just undress him from waist down, and replace the stained sweatpants with something more comfortable. And less soaked in urine. JARVIS’ sensors were picking up on a nasty diaper rash beginning to form.

Not that sir would ever allow himself something as “indulgent” as a diaper.

Butterfingers beeped twice, signalling he was done with wrestling to wrestle sirs legs into a clean pair of pants as best he could, which JARVIS was satisfied with, but sir was now whining in his sleep, tossing and turning and mumbling words. 

“Sir? Sir you are in Stark tower, it's 2012, you’re safe. It’s currently 3pm.”

No luck. The sedative was probably too strong for just verbal cues to wake him up.

JARVIS thought for a second. He’d been muted, but Sir hadn’t specified whether that was relating to his speakers in the lab or the tower at large, Sir’s hadn’t eaten for over 30 hours, allowing one of Miss Potts’ protocols to kick in, at this point he was allowed to contact a “trusted individual”. When the protocol was first instated it could only refer to Mr Rhodes and Miss Potts, but as the Avengers were now on Sir’s will JARVIS could definitely defend the decision to call one of them down. And now that Sir was cleaned up there were no obvious giveaways of his classification.

Dr Banner it was.

\--Tony’s pov--

_Fire. fire and burning flesh, burning water in his airways, yinsen reaching out and trying to grab his hand as he fell fell fell through the wormhole_

Stark?

_endless stars stretching out in front of him, each breathe took valuable oxygen, and he gasped, hands pulling out the arc reactor_

Stark.

_Obie standing over him taking it taking and smiling he was smiling and oh god he couldn't live_

Tony.

_without that and he was screaming and reaching and crying and no one was coming for him_

_no caregiver no parents he was just crying and crying and crying no one wanted him howards face looming over and his fists reaching up-_

Tony!!

Tony shot up with a gasp, grabbing at whatever was draped over him, heart pounding in his ears.

He heaved in mouthfuls of air, vaguely aware that he wasn't breathing properly and someone was talking over the roaring in his head but he was far too focused on sucking in as much oxygen as possible to really care.

He brought his thumb up close to his mouth, but quickly snatched it down again.

_Wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong_

Fuck, he could feel tears pooling at the bottom of his eyes, threatening to fall. He shifted on his seat, wincing at the burn of his skin on the fabric.

God he wanted a teddy. 

He gripped the blanket tighter, trying and failing to stop the shaking of his hands.

“Tony, can you hear me?”

He looked up, jaw dropping slightly at the sight of one Bruce Banner staring at him with… concern?? Fear?? Oh god he couldn’t handle this right now, not when he was _so_ close to headspace and probably a complete mental breakdown while he was there.

“Tony, I need you to breathe with me, ok??” Tony please this can't be good for your heart.”

Tony felt something touch the arc reactor and instantly backed up, scrambling away.

“Tony come on breathe, look you’re shaking.”

Tony put his hand out in front of him, and sure enough it was violently shaking, in fact now he was thinking about it he could feel trembles wracking his entire frame. He kept staring at the tremors running through his hand, almost mesmerized.

“Ok, ok, just- can i grab your hand? I'm going to grab your hand now Tony ok.”

Tony barely repressed a flinch as a warm, calloused hand grabbed his, stifling the shaking slightly, and placed it on… cloth?? Soft, like it had been worn a lot, and slightly wrinkled around his fingers.

“Ok Tony, in”

His hand rose.

“Out.”

The hand went back to its original position.”

“In, and out. Tony can you try breathing with me, you're doing really well”

Tony wanted to scream and yell, and shove away but-

The voice was so soft, and encouraging and warm, and all he wanted was for someone, _anyone_ to talk like that to him for a bit longer. So shakily he tried to copy the pattern, sometimes going too fast, or heaving in on a choked back sob, and straight up missing some breaths, but after what felt like a lifetime, he’d managed to pretty much match his (still shaky) breathing to Bruce’s. Bruce who was very much in front of him right now, and actively helping him through a panic attack, which way something he was _not_ supposed to have. Fuck. He took a deep breath, releasing his claw grip on the tattered blanket and reigning himself in.

“Heyyy Brucie Bear, so, what brings you down to my lair??” he quipped, deciding in a second that distraction and deflection was the game here. Fuck off was he facing what had just happened. Stark men are iron. He swallowed compulsively, trying to push down the nausea at the thought of what Howard would say about his son having to be talked down from a _panic attack_ because he got upset about a _dream_ and wanted someone to give him a _bottle_.

“Well funnily enough Tony, JARVIS asked me to head down here because you weren’t actually _breathing_ , and apparently your blood sugar levels are low enough to be classed as an immediate risk to your health. Namely because _apparently_ you haven't eaten for 40 hours.” Burce had pulled back, getting off the couch and instead standing with his hands on his hips, frustration written across his face.

That was good. It had Tony blinking slightly faster to keep tears at bay, because he’d _disappointed Bruce and Bruce was so nice to him and he just wanted Burce to say he was doing well again please please please_

No it was good though. Frustration. Tony could work with that. Push just the right amount for Bruce to leave and forget why he was called down in the first place. Then maybe he could manage to keep his place on the avengers. 

“Right well, sorry mother. I'm fine, just need to eat a granola bar or something, so thanks but i need to get back to my ultra important sciencey stuff now”

He was ridiculously proud of the way his voice barely wobbled.

But Bruce steam rollered on, ignoring the clear dismissal.

“Tony you can't just- you need to take _care of yourself._ God could you just stop acting like a child for 3 goddamn seconds-” 

Tony noticed the green creeping in from Bruce's hairline, heard the child comparison and the frustration in his voice and did the worst possible thing: he flinched. Pressed himself further up against the couch arm, his feet pushing him further back despite being as closed in as possible. He winced at the jolt of the reactor, reaching a hand up to press at the sore flesh surrounding it. His shirt was damp with blood which- great. Clearly he’d ripped the skin during his brief stint of Not Breathing. Just what he needed. He heard Bruce take a breath, and tried to crowd himself impossibly further into the worn, stained fabric. Maybe if he really, really wished for it he could just melt into said fabric and become a part of the sofa because he _really_ didn’t want to have this conversation right now.

Maybe Bruce picked up on that, because something in him softened, the green receding. He sighed, the concern returning to his face as he sat back down, running his hands through his hair for a second. 

“Look Tony, it’s ok… not to be ok?? Alright?? We’ve all got issues, time bomb remember??” He smiled self deprecatingly “I still wake up sometimes thinking about the other guy and what he's done. None of us are perfect. You don't have to be ok all the time.”  
  


“Yes, I do.”

It came out broken, barely a whisper, a confession made to the air more than Bruce, but by the sharp intake of breath in front of him it had been heard all the same.

“Anyway Brucie, good talk but i have work to do so shoo please, unless you want the good cap to go into our next battle naked and weaponless.”

This time he said the dismissal with more force, making it clear he was done with this conversation. He wasn’t weak, he didn’t have nightmares or _whatever_ he was _fine_. And as far as he was concerned, headspace was a choice, and he just… didn't want to. 

He shouldn’t have flinched, and he definitely shouldn't have said that to Bruce. He was already in danger enough as it is with Bruce being a doctor, it was frankly a miracle he’d still managed to keep the whole headspace thing under wraps, maybe he had an alternative career path as an actor. But yeah, Bruce didn't need any more hints that something was up, as if his stature and build wasn't glaringly _not_ baseline dom leaning.

God. 

Bruce meanwhile had just sighed, shooting him one more complicated look before slipping out the doors. 

Tony took a deep breath, grabbing 2 more suppressant pills and swallowing them dry. With the sheer amount of stress he was under right now he didn't trust his usual dosage to hold up against his forceful instincts, he’d built up such a resistance to the pills by now that he doubted it would do much but hopefully it would stave off the worst of the lingering sleep induced caregiver daydreaming, and would stop anyone from picking up on the “little aura". Because like it or not he was going to have to emerge for food at some point, and that meant facing his “teammates” again. He was having _such_ a bad day.

Tony looked up at one of JARVIS’ more visible speakers, which had been suspiciously quiet.

“Right JARVIS, you and I are going to have a _conversation_ about calling certain doctors down to the workshop without permission.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: panic attack - tony's thoughts are described in detail while he's having this panic attack, and i do mention the fact that he's struggling to breathe quite a bit  
> tw: inadequacy?? - unsure how to describe this, but tony is very critical of himself, and describes his mental health issues as weak frequently, these are not my views at all, but tony's opinion of himself and mental health is pitifully low (which im totally blaming howard for). so just a disclaimer that having mental health issues is totally fine, and not a weakness at all. if anyone ever needs to talk you can always email me (my gmail is the same as my user), or leave a comment, i can always listen and i honestly dont mind  
> im not going to leave a list of websites, because im sure youve heard them all before, and as someone with mental health issues i understand that really as a general rule they arent that helpful, but i will say that kooth is the best ive ever used
> 
> now onto the lighter stuff!!
> 
> I KNOW THE SONG FOR THIS CHAPTER IS THE SAME AS THE LAST I SWEAR IM NOT JUST LAZY SYUFSDSG 
> 
> ASIDE FROM THE FACT THAT THE SONGS AMAZING I GENUINELY COULDNT FIND A LYRIC THAT FIT AS WELL SO JUST,, PLEASE FORGIVE ME BUT ALSO STREAM HOBO JOHNSON
> 
> also complete side note but have any of you seen charlie bartlett?? cause i did NOT know rdj was in it, that totally threw me off, and he was acting like a dad for the entire film and it just made me very happy, new comfort film asf yall should definitely watch it, especially if you love irondad (cause that used to be my favourite type of fics before i realised hurting tony is better lmao/lh)
> 
> happy very late valentines to you all!! i dont really know any of you, but genuinely every new hit on this makes my day, so i do love all of you, and i hope you know that youre all receiving late valentines chocolates from me rn
> 
> as before the key for comments is below, dont feel obliged but you can use it if you want to  
> (side note but im so sorry bc i realised the "kudos" heart is red, NOT black as it looks when im on pc, and people use it with the "love the chapter" heart a lot which is PURPLE so im just,, so sorry ive subjected you to that awful colour combination. ew.)
> 
> key:
> 
> (for me)  
> ❤ - thank you so much!!  
> 💙 - thank you so much, and i want to reply in more detail later!
> 
> (for you guys)  
> ❤ - kudos!  
> 💙 - not as keen on the new chapter  
> 💚 - like the new chapter  
> 💜 - love the new chapter  
> 💖 - talk less in your notes lmao
> 
> ps also im claiming MAJOR creative licence on all of the coding talk in the JARVIS section, i literally hate computer science and i have no idea how code works so just,, yeah take it with an entire container of salt. i just thought it would be cool to write from JARVIS' perspective because i think hes incredibly underappreciated, and the films never actually discuss whether asimovs laws apply to JARVIS, but it seems unlikely which i find really interesting 
> 
> \- bat <33 (i still talk to much in my notes hhhhhhh)


	4. bird bone wrists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And Tony just watched. Watched sat in a big white empty hospital bed as Mama cried delicate tears into cups of hospital coffee, despairing over why no one could ever find out what was wrong with her child when she already knew the true cause."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY. SO THIS IS JUST TONY BEING SICK AND SAD FOR LIKE,, 4000 WORDS B U T  
> i think i get some leeway here because i can literally guarantee NO ONE saw this coming, even i didnt really think i was going to update this quickly, its literally been like 2 days wtf i am on FIRE >:)
> 
> just so you all know by the way, ive made a few very small edits to chapter 1, mainly just around timelines because it made more sense for tony not to have dropped for 6 months, so not during afghanistan and then 3 months after, and for his classification results to come in when he was 10, not 5, because he wouldve just been starting puberty at 10, so yeah nothing major, but just a note that you might notice that timings have shifted in this chapter
> 
> yeah i guess i just hope you enjoy, sorry tony doesnt really interact with anyone else, i kind of just wanted to go into some more detail about why tony hates doctors so much, and i kind of needed to set up the whole sick tony for Plot Reasons  
> plus ill never turn down some good old howard bashing and a look into a complex mariaand im deeply passionate about the fact that tony definitely has chronic pain and theres no way that the arc reactor is easy to live with on a day to day basis (ive actually got a whole google doc dedicated to this, let me know if you want a link in the comments i guess lmao)
> 
> also im seriously considering making an animation for the DUM-E scene in this chapter, and im also seriously considering writing a munchausen by proxy fanfic with maria because i was kind of leaning in that direction for this chapter and i actually really enjoyed writing it  
> as always, song and tws/cws are in the end notes
> 
> enjoy!!  
> \- bat <33

**Maybe I'm still a stupid little boy**

**Too weak to understand what will come**

**I want to find peace of mind**

**Maybe no mind is the answer to that conundrum**

\- memento mori, by crywank

**The tower, 2012, Tony’s bedroom, Tony’s POV**

Tony shot up with a gasp, choking on the air and coughing what felt like both his lungs out. The “off feeling” from 2 days ago had managed to turn into something  _ so much worse _ overnight; his lungs were screaming, his throat felt like someone had run a cheese grater down it, his sinuses were clogged, his head was pounding but worst of all was the arc reactor. For a second Tony was left grasping at reality because he could've sworn someone's hand was inside him again, twisting and pulling at his heart. The arc reactor had thrown pain at him on a level he never had to deal with before Afghanistan, and he had to deal with that daily but this was- this was something else. He had felt this once before, having returned from Afghanistan he had refused to let anyone near the arc besides Pepper, Rhodey and Ob- Stane. One of which was a very bad decision and so now the arc was for his eyes and his eyes only. Of course that reluctance to share wasn't especially helpful when you had a piece of metal shoved through your sternum, and the resulting infection had caught hold in the join, the red inflamed ring between metal and flesh. 

It was horrifyingly easy for the simple infection to turn into something much, much worse. An infection in the pretty much open wound surrounded his souped up pacemaker, sections of his lungs removed to make way for said souped up pacemaker: he had basically become a petri dish, his body had a flashing open sign on it like some kind of fucked up bacteria motel. He caught a cold within the first few days of being home. It wasn't fun, but it had seemed to clear up after a week, that was, until Tony had woken up, struggling to breathe, when the phlegm he kept hacking up had turned white and then brown. As the fever kept rising and Tony still refused to let a medical professional even glance in his direction, the rasp in his throat had turned into an inability to talk, the fuzziness had morphed into fever hallucinations. When his chest had started  _ oozing _ in a variety of different, increasingly more concerning colours Tony had finally thought, however briefly, that he might have let this go too far. But he’d never really accepted medical attention well, stark men are made of iron and all. And Tony had never been the healthiest kid, he seemed to catch ear and chest infections every other day, and was skinny beyond belief, deficient in just about every vitamin known to man, he might not have even made it through his childhood without some permanent lifelong condition without Jarvis. To her credit, Maria, while she still wanted to be involved, had  _ tried  _ at least.

-0-

_ Tony shifted on the wooden seat, his chin barely reaching the table.  _

_ “Sit up straight Anthony!” _

_ He strained to reach up higher, but he was  _ **_already_ ** _ sitting up straight, he just isn't that tall, a fact that had never failed to annoy his dad so far. He was nearing 6, and all of his peers stood a minimum of a foot taller than him, an especially sensitive point with both him and his parents. _

_ “Oh for God’s sake boy are you completely useless.” _

_ Tony stayed quiet. _

_ Dad sighed. _

_ “Guess we should test it huh?” _

_ Tony had to consciously stop his shoulders from dropping. He knew what that meant. _

_ “C’mon, i'll give you an easy one to start with. How would you calculate the strength of an electric field associated with the charge of a nucleus.” _

_ \--- _

_ Tony walked up the stairs determinedly pushing back the tears that threatened to spill over as he gently probed the bright red side of his face. At least he’d just ended up being sent to his room without dinner after one “warning” rather than anything worse. And god knows Tony knew just how about “worse” could be. It's just a shame that Jarvis got caught the last time he tried to smuggle some food for Tony after 2 days of going without. It was a shame because now Tony was going on 3 days, and feeling every hour of those 3 days. _

_ He opened the door to his room and opened a drawer, pulling on another sweater before flopping onto his bed, wriggling around trying to find a position where his bones didn't jab into his flesh. Said position apparently didn't exist. So he just sighed, pulling on another sweater because the cold seemed to follow him everywhere now, and decided that the day had been enough for him, he didn't care that it was only 7, he was done. He crawled into bed, and gratefully passed out. _

_ \--- _

_ When he woke up he was boiling and Mama was fussing all over him, taking his temperature and making panicked noises about his glassy eyes, his bone bird wrists, eggshell complexion, cracking composure, his lolling head and fever flushed skin. Tony just lay in bed, sweating and trying his best to breathe, watching Mama’s hands flutter around in the air with fascination.  _

_ When he next opened his eyes he was in a doctors office.  _

_ “Early stages of flu, probably, but really Mrs Stark, he's very underweight, and the blood tests we got back were quite concerning-” _

_ “He can't possibly be that bad, he just doesn't really have much of an appetite.” _

_ “Mrs Stark, the reason Anthony-” _

_ “Antonio.” _

_ “Right yes  _ **_Anthonio_ ** _. Well the reason anthonio managed to catch the flu quite so quickly, and the reason why it's affecting him so much is because his immune system couldn't cope, he's not receiving even half as many calories or nutrients he should be getting at his age.” _

_ He opened his eyes again, and now there were nurses holding his head back, holding his arms down. He started trying to move, just for one of the nurses to hiss at him to stop making it harder. He slumped, half held up by other people, as the doctors talked to Mama over his head. They started approaching with a tube and he started thrashing again, and the nurse from before took a deep breath and turned to him, attempting to smile. _

_ “C’mon, don't you want to be a good boy?” _

_ She had rolled her eyes towards her friend half way through the sentence, and it was said so sickly sweet, making fun of just how pathetic he was. Tears streamed down his face as his protests died down. He knew what happened to bad boys. The doctor was still talking to Mama to his left. _

_ “They often struggle, don't worry, it's for the best.” _

_ Tony whimpered as he watched Mama’s hands flutter again by his face as she talked to the doctor over his head and they started moving the tube closer to his mouth. _

_ The tube tasted awful as it wormed its way down his throat, scraping, and it felt massive, he kept choking around its width, struggling to breathe. Mamma stroked his hair absentmindedly the whole time, still talking to the doctor. She didn't look at him once. _

_ \--- _

_ It was the first experience, or at least the first he could remember, of many.  _

_ Sitting on cold plastic chairs, looking around bored because all the kids' games were far below his mental age, watching Mama’s face when every doctor said the same thing; that he just needed more food, that he was far too underweight and maybe they could try this dietary plan? Watching her demand more tests and more procedures. Having doctors hold down his flailing legs and arms while they poked and prodded and took his blood, shoved tubes inside him, looked at his insides, all at Mama’s request. Eventually she grew bored of the endless parade of dieticians, paediatricians, general practitioners and gastroenterologists. Finally she even got bored of the entourage of nurses with their tireless sympathy and “oh Mrs Stark it must be so hard”. She got bored of never getting an answer she liked, because despite trying as many doctors as possible, and enduring multiple short hospitalisations for various infections, during the whole year long ordeal not one doctor had given her what she desperately wanted: a diagnosis that didnt involve her own neglect of her child. _

_ Because Mama _ **_had_ ** _ tried, in her own way, had laid down on the hospital beds next to him, stroking his hair and whispering “Tonio, tonio, tonio mi dispiace, mi amore mi dispiace mi dispiace mi dispiace” over and over until she fell asleep, her delicate face resting on his curls and he didn't dare move. She had given him his first cup of coffee at 6 in the hospital, brushed off the hospital staff’s concerns and cried when Tony couldn't keep it down. Had put their different medications together and told Tony to guess, giggling as he scrutinised, and they would take their pills together, make it a game.  _

_ “Tonio,” she would say “Tonio we have to see who can do it faster. I will win mi amor, you see” _

_ Tony couldn't help notice that his pills had his name on, and Mama’s didn't. When he had asked her about it they made a new game, guessing what the people on the labels would be like, until they had to stop because Mama’s tears had blurred the writing too much to see the names anymore and when Tony gave her a kiss to make it better she just cried harder and left. _

_ When Mama came back she had even more pill people names to play with. _

_ And Tony just watched. Watched sat in a big white empty hospital bed as Mama cried delicate tears into cups of hospital coffee, despairing over why no one could ever find out what was wrong with her child when she already knew the true cause. _

_ He watched the screaming fits between her and Dad every time they came back from a new doctor, Dad spitting words just out of his reach as Jarvis hurried him away. And he got to feel dad’s rage that his son was too weak, too sickly, too shit to possibly be a Stark man.  _

_ He heard the screams about Captain America and how he was sick once, how he was simply stronger, and beat it. How he would never compare. And while Tony sat on his bed, looking at the fresh marks of dad’s rage and mama’s desperation to find a cure he decided his dad was right. He would be better. He didn't want the doctors near him anymore, would never again be held down and forced into this or that while Mama looked beseechingly at the closest nurse or doctor to hand, as they held her hands and gave her reassurance. He would live up to Captain America. Sickness was for the weak. Stark men are iron, so iron he would be. No more doctors. He was going to be strong. _

_ \--- _

_ The next time Tony got sick he refused to stay home, he pushed and pushed until Jarvis let him go to school, and for once Dad had looked at him with some kind of pride. _

_ “Leave him be Jarvis, no son of mine is a pansy, he can go to school.” _

_ Tony had given Jarvis a grim smile, and gone. He’d sat at his desk in misery the whole time, not taking in anything, but when he got home Dad had announced that seeing as Tony was becoming slightly more independent he would be granted a small amount of pocket money. _

_ Mama had just sat eyes staring out into the air, unblinking, as she drank from her coffee cup, her own bird bone wrists shaking as she lifted it, white powder littering her saucer as she sent a vacant smile his way, saying “spendilo bene Tonio,” completely oblivious to the looks Dad was giving her. He didn't like Italian. _

_ Tony bought his own food from then on, and any time he had to stay home from school he was smuggled away to Jarvis’ quarters.  _

_ No more doctors were consulted, but slowly, slowly Tony started to gain some weight. _

-0-

And the lesson had stuck. No doctors, engraved into his skin with all the scars the various doctors trips had left, with all the marks from Howard he’d gotten for daring to be so weak. No doctors. So that was part of the reason why when a cold and slight infection turned up, Tony decided that, especially as he didn't want anyone seeing his chest, the best cause of action was just to “be stronger”. Be like a duck. Another thing Howard used to say aside from the typical stark men speech. Be like a duck, calm on top, paddling like hell underneath.Never let people know you're human, always be above. So as his mild fever hit 104, and the skin around the arc started leaking black he kept pushing. As his cold turned into bronchitis, then into pneumonia, when the infection turned septic, he just popped a couple morphine pills and went into his board meeting. 

It was only when, after receiving several increasingly concerned looks from Pepper, he decided to leave his board meeting to maybe get some coffee, or sleep who knew. It was only then, when he stood up and the entire world liquified in front of his eyes, as he stumbled forwards and gripped the chair waiting for his vision to return, only as he shook his head and found himself tipping out of balance with no idea of the where the floor was. Only then as the floor came closer and closer to his face and every inch of his body was hurting, as Pepper was calling out his name and someone had grabbed his upper arm, as he felt his mouth dropping open and his shoulder make impact with the floor. Only then did he admit to himself. Only then did he think, as he felt the rest of his body collide with the floor and heard the panicking board members swarming him.

I took it too far.

And then he was gone.

When he’d woken up in the hospital it had invoked a very uncomfortable sense of deja vu. Pepper was half asleep at his bedside, tears tracks still visible on her face.

The doctors had attempted to explain, multiple times, how Tony should be looking after himself. But he couldn't take it, couldn't take the pitying eyes, and how they reassured Pepper, so much like Maria it made his skin itch. How Pepper had held his hand and said “I’m sorry Tony” but it was in English and it was wrong wrong wrong. How when they looked at his x rays they all made the same face of horror. The visceral reaction of “how are you alive?”. He didn't want the constant reminders of how close he’d come to dying, of the fact that someone  _ had _ died in order to fix his screwed up body. If one more doctor looked closer at his scans and looked up to him, morbid wonder in their eyes as they hissed “someone  _ moved _ your heart”, if one more person did he would leave the hospital by window and just end it all. 

So he left. Signed himself out AMA, refused the wheelchair they kept pushing towards him ( _ “its my lungs that are fucked not my legs for fuck sake”),  _ took all the pamphlets and personalised medical advice spreadsheets and detailed plans, promised to read them all - I’ll stick them up on my fridge and everything of course I will doctor, promise. 

He incinerated them all the second he got home.

And right now, lying in a cesspool of his own tears, urine and sweat, his own personal pocket of hell, he thinks he might actually regret it. Just slightly. It would be helpful right now, however begrudgingly he had to admit it, to know how to clean the casing properly. He groaned hacking up a mouthful of phlegm and spitting into a cup on his bedside table. Well. There went his water. 

“JAR-”

His voice cracked, scratching and protesting the use.

“J,” he forced out “water. And meds. Code lung fuck.”

Not his most inventive name but it got the job done so who cares. Code Lung Fuck was created after the first infection, and while the vast majority of the time he ignored any and all medical advice some parts could be helpful at points. Like now. The doctors had mentioned “chronic pain” a lot, Tony didn't  _ like _ that, but they gave him Tramadol, Oxycodone and Baclofen. And right now, he wasn't complaining. Because he may be stubborn, but he was at least willing to admit that there was no way he was getting out of this bed without some serious painkillers.

“Alright Sir, just try and breathe deeply, DUME-E is on his way.”

JARVIS fell silent and Tony laid back, propping himself up on his pillows and trying to take deep breaths through his nose and out his mouth. As he was trying to catch his ever elusive breath back he noticed a slightly stale sweet taste to the air. God damn it J. High oxygen content air, most likely with Albuterol and Orciprenaline thrown in, 2 more medications on the endless list of options he was given when he left the hospital. JARVIS had clearly taken it upon himself to decide to dose him with it through the diffuser Pepper put in the corner of the bedroom, gathering dust. He couldn't even bring up the energy to call him out on it - the new air was already soothing his airway and his laboured breaths were sounding slightly less like a death rattle.

The elevator to his floor trilled DUM-Es arrival, and he could hear excited beeping as DUM-E trundled down the hall and into his room. The sight of the bot actually managed to shock a laugh out of him, before it devolved into coughing again.

DUM-E had a blanket covering him, reaching all the way down to his wheels, it was a miracle he hadn't gotten caught on the way up. Because said blanket blocked his camera he was whirring his “head” all over the place, clearly trying to dislodge the blanket and failing miserably. While DUM-E was living up to his name, he was also balancing a tray with 3 different drinks on it and 3 bottles of medication with a syringe. All but one of the items had fallen over, and the drinks were slowly mixing into each other, thick liquid sliding off the tray and onto the floor more and more as DUM-E began spinning around. To top it all off, also on the tray was an oil can. Presumably to “fix” Tony.

“DUM-E oh my god you are hopeless. Actually, genuinely hopeless. No don't beep at me you know it's true. Get over here.”

DUM-E dropped his “head” dejectedly, inadvertently dislodging the blanket. He squealed in excitement, perking back up again and doing 3 quick spins all while beeping his delight at being “freed”.

“DUM-E. DUM-E! C’mon get over here” Tony laughed

DUM-E whirred over, and very gently placed the absolute  _ mess _ of a tray on Tony’s lap, looking ridiculously proud of himself. 

Tony looked down at the gooey, sticky mess dripping onto the bed. He sighed. 

“Ok DUM-E, now go back downstairs, go on shoo. No, no, you did amazing, don't worry, thank you. I'm very grateful. Good boy. Yes you’re a good boy you stupid bot now get down to the charging unit before I dismantle you for parts.”

The talking did  _ not _ help his throat, but it was worth it to get to interact with his odd little robot kids, and even through the pain he now had the hint of a smile on his face.

At least one glass of water was still upright. He sighed again, swallowing a half pill of the baclofen and the oxycodone, a quarter of the dose he was supposed to be taking regularly, but he never claimed he followed doctors orders perfectly. He took a breath, steadying himself, before picking up one of the pocket sized injections, designed by himself: tiny needles the size of buttons, he attached it to the top of the tramadol bottle, filling it while trying to keep his hands steady enough to not drop it and add to the already horrendous mess on his bed. When he’d managed to fill it he took it off the bottle, peeled off the sticker back and stuck it to his thigh. He leant back, breathing for a second before pressing the release button on top of it. 

The relief felt instant, though logically he knew the medication took at least a couple of minutes to actually get into his system. He relaxed against his pillows, nowhere near boneless but it felt like it after how tense he’d been before. He allowed himself to savour the absence of crushing pain from… well. Everywhere. After about 10 minutes he forced himself out of bed. The presence of the blanket clearly indicated that JARVIS and the bots (and his body, if he was being completely honest with himself. Which he wasn't.) wanted him to take the day off and just lie in bed. Tony smirked at the thought. What was it that people said?? Ain't no rest for the wicked?? That was him alright.

He walked into the shower, breathing in the smell of normal, not medication sweetened air before he started the painful process of stripping his soiled clothes. Because ew. He was  _ disgusting _ right now. Covered in sweat, piss, tears, mucus, little trails of Tramadol that had slipped out of the bottle and whatever the fuck DUM-Es spilled concoction contained. From the smell of it motor oil featured heavily. And spinach.

He could swear they got worse every day.

He was out of his pyjama trousers and boxers. Now for the bad bit. The shirt.

Yeah this was definitely gonna hurt.

He reached his arms round his back, already feeling the pull on muscles that  _ really _ didn't want to be pulled on. Shockingly, when you slice through layers upon layers of muscle, fat and tissue it leaves lasting effects. Muscles are interconnected, his entire torso was a dysfunctional spaghetti pile of faulty muscles. He felt tears forming behind his closed eyelids, threatening to collect and fall down. He just wanted to pull the shirt off. That's all. Just wanted to get it off so he could have a shower. So he could start this awful day less sticky and gross. He dropped to the floor, whining at the jolt, and just sat there on the bathroom tiles, blissfully cold against his skin, rocking back and forth. At some point his thumb entered his mouth, he didn't even notice. God knows how dirty it was, but Tony just kept rocking, staring into space, tears running tracks down his face, leaving pale lines where they'd washed away the dirt and grime.

He didn't know how long he sat there, just crying. But he would guess it was around an hour, the amount of time it took for the other medications to kick in. Numbly, he took his thumb out of his mouth, wiping it off on the shirt. He reached his arms round his back, feeling significantly less strain now that the Baclofen had finally eased the tightness slightly, and pulled the shirt over his head, letting out a quiet sob when his arms were all the way up. He quickly shoved it off, taking deep panting breaths through the onslaught of pain. He stood there completely naked and freezing in the bathroom, as the air hit his fever and sleep warmed skin, shivering. 

“JARVIS.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Shower. You know the settings.”

“Of course Sir.”   
  


JARVIS sounded almost gentle. How pathetic was that?? Tony Stark had programmed himself a friend, because that was the only way anyone would speak to him in that tone. Funny really. Old Jarvis would've been horrified.

JARVIS started up the water, lowering the shower head so it would only hit his shoulders and down. Having water on his face was such an incredibly bad idea right now he couldn’t even properly articulate just how  _ bad  _ the result of it would be.

He got in, the shower was luxurious, big enough to fit about 3-4 people in comfortably, and it even had a kind of seat/bench part in the corner. Right now it just felt like it was mocking him. He felt tiny, insignificant and pathetic, sitting down on the shower bench because he couldn't trust his legs to hold him, the shower that was supposed to be warm and relaxing feeling tepid to his feverish skin. The shower head that had to be lowered so he didnt have a fucking flashback, All his muscles screaming their protest as he wearily scrubbed all the built up grime, dirt, grease and dust from his hair and skin. He was so disgusting. He didn't understand how anyone could stand to be around him.He finished up, washing all the suds off and attempting to stretch, knowing it would be worse later if he didnt. He went to step out of the shower and slipped, catching himself with a hand and half screaming half whining, at the jolt of pain that answered the action. He sat down on his bathroom floor again, desperately fighting back the urge to cry because he knew this time if he started he wouldn't stop, and so would begin The Drop. It would come at some point, Tony knew that. Biology has a horrible way of catching up with you. But not today. Today Tony was going to be a normal, functioning adult, and he didn't care how much effort and pain he had to put into reaching that goal. 

“Sir would you like me to call someone?? Colonel Rhodes, Miss Potts?? Captain Rogers??”

“No.” he gasped out. 

That was literally the last thing he wanted. There would be absolutely no coming back from that. One kind word right now and he would crumble. And some poor sod would be left with a sobbing, barely clean, traumatised, sick baby little. He wouldn't force anyone to spend any more time around him than necessary, and made sure to give out regular rewards for the time they did spend with him. And Howard said he couldn't buy friends, well that shows him. Tonys been buying friends like it's going out of fashion for  _ years _ . Pepper just gets straight up money, a job, new gifts, fully paid trips to other countries, Rhodey gets weapons and military liaisons, a suit of armour worth millions and he makes sure his bank account is full, the Avengers get housing, upgrades, new toys and an endless credit card. But his little self wouldn't offer anything, he’d be completely useless, and  _ sure _ they'd probably reluctantly step up, because they were good people, but Tony would never subject them to that, he will literally do anything and everything in his power to stop them from finding out. He doesn't want to deal with the sense of duty, from them telling him what to do and that they’re there out of charity. Because they’re all so insufferably  _ good,  _ and Tony isn't. He’s a handful, he’s messy, he cries a lot. He would never subject them to that. So.

Adult today.

He pushed himself up.

-0- 

An equally painful process of getting dressed, a stripped bed and a drying mattress protector later and Tony was ready. Sure he still had some dried up soap in his hair, and his shirt was huge on him, and he didn't even try with socks or shoes, but this was as good he was getting and fuck it he thought he’d done well. Time to go down to the lab.

But the world fucking hated him. So of course it was that moment that the avengers alarm sounded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so tws/cws
> 
> tw: inferred child abuse, and referenced child neglect - Howard manipulates tony, doesnt feed him and its implied he slaps him, if you want to miss this skip out from the beginning of the flashback to "he opened the door to his room"  
> cw: medical trauma - its pretty clear that a lot of the time Tony didnt consent to the procedures that happened to him, and he is restrained at points, if you want to skip this part miss out the flashback section in italics  
> cw: very brief mention of drug misuse - from maria, about 3 lines or so, beginning with "Tony couldnt help but notice" and ends with "tony just watched"  
> cw: negative thoughts around "weakness" - once again, i dont agree with tony's inner monologue at ALL, but he has very low self esteem 
> 
> song!! the song for today is memento mori by crywank, which yes, funny name, but theyre an amazing band, if youre sad and gay (to be honest youre reading my fanfic so im kind of assuming you are in some capacity) you should definitely give them a listen. the lyric doesnt q u i t e fit the chapter, but it fits the general theme of the fic so im not that fussed, especially because its nearly 3am and im tired bro
> 
> also i did loads of research and tried my absolute hardest for the medications and logic of how the arc reactor could cause illness but im 14, and not in any way a doctor, ao im once again claiming creative license here, and i am aware that tony probably wouldnt have been prescribed all 3 medications, but it was just easier to write
> 
> heres the comment key:
> 
> (for me)  
> ❤ - thank you so much!!  
> 💙 - thank you so much, and i want to reply in more detail later!
> 
> (for you guys)  
> ❤ - kudos!  
> 💙 - not as keen on the new chapter  
> 💚 - like the new chapter  
> 💜 - love the new chapter  
> 💖 - talk less in your notes lmao
> 
> \- bat <33


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